


Of Allies and Enemies

by inkjoy



Series: Cops and Hunters [2]
Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angels, Crossover, Demons, NCIS finds out about the supernatural, Rescue Missions, dean is arrested, phonecalls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2318735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjoy/pseuds/inkjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been several years and Gibbs had all but forgotten the phone call from John, until now. </p><p>"Gibbs? Leroy Jethro Gibbs? It's Dean Winchester, I need your help."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Odd Phone calls and Old Friends. I recommend you read that one first.

 

"Gibbs? Leroy Jethro Gibbs? It's Dean Winchester, I need your help."

It had been years and Gibbs had not heard a hint or whisper about any of the Winchesters. Currently, he was following up on a case on two escaped convicts, rumored to be in this area. So, naturally that was what was demanding the majority of his time.

He had been working on some furniture instead of a boat for a change, sipping bourbon when he could. He had just finished sanding the chair down when he heard his phone. Walking over to the table with all of his tools. He placed his bourbon to the side and reached for the jar at the top shelf. Tipping both nails and phone onto the cleanest surface he fished out his mobile and flicked it open, expecting a late night call to a crime scene.

So when Special Agent Gibbs, former marine and gifted investigator received a phone call from the eldest of the two Winchester brother's, it was rather surprising. Not to mention inconvenient.

There was a long pause on the line while Gibbs regained his ability to speak and process the words he had heard. Dean Winchester stayed abnormally quiet while he waited, hoping he wouldn't just hang up.

Finally he was able to reply (about 3 seconds later.. nothing stopped Gibbs), albeit gruffly. "You John Winchester's boy, right?"

"Yes.. Sir" Dean tacked on the last word reluctantly. He wouldn't have done it at all but this was a marine he was talking to and his dad had told Dean he had to treat Gibbs with utmost respect.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked although he dreaded the answer.

There was another short pause on the line.

"Dead."

Even though he expected it, he still couldn't help the sharp intake of breath that passed through his lips. He should have known something like this would happen eventually, especially after his last conversation with him. He wanted to push Dean or more information but he decided against it. That would only make Dean more reluctant to give away the secret Gibbs knew his family was hiding.

Instead he decided to address why an independent son of a marine, like Dean, would contact someone he didn't even know on the off chance that they could help, because if he was anything like John used to be, he wouldn't call for much.

He never got the chance to reply with his condolences or even question Dean. The words were just forming on his lips when Dean continued talking, he definitely didn't want to waste any time.

"Look Agent Gibbs... Dad told us you would help if we were ever in trouble, particularly with the law."

"Well he was right," Gibbs assured him. "Now tell me what's wrong so I can help."

"Okay, but first I need to know you won't tell anyone about this phone call, whether or not you can help us, especially any Feds."

The Special Agent felt his suspicions rise but he forced them back down, trying to believe he was just being pre cautious. Taking a deep breath he reluctantly verbalized his agreement. His gut was telling him that he wasn't going to like whatever Winchester had to tell him, but for now he had to go along in order to try and help.

Dean breathed out a sigh o relief, one less problem burdening his shoulders. Running a hand through his hair he considered how to phrase what he was going to reveal first.

"You've heard of the two convicts in the area, right?" He began.

"Well yeah, my team and I are currently trying to track them down. Why do you care? Did they put some sort of hit out on you?" Gibbs fired several questions off quickly, subconsciously going back to his interrogation methods. Something wasn't adding up, he felt as if he was missing something.

Dean winced, knowing this conversation was going to get ugly real fast. "Not exactly."

"Well then why don't you tell me what the hells going on?" Gibbs yelled into the phone, his frustration with the lack of answers reaching its limit.

"Tell me the names of the two convicts." Dean said quietly.

The question through Gibbs for a minute, but he regained his ground quick. "What does that have to do with-"

"The names Agent Gibbs." Dean glared at the phone his voice hardening.

Clenching his fist in aggravation he walked over to his desk and pulled the case file on the convicts closer to him. It was one of the biggest he had ever seen. His team had gotten the call only today to begin search for them so he had planned on reading over their case file tonight.

Unbeknownst to him, on the other side of the line, Dean held his breath, wondering how this was going to play out after this.

Flipping it open to the beginning Gibbs scanned it until he found the names, not letting any of the emotions he felt building up inside of him show, he read it out loud, cursing internally.

"Dean and Sam Winchester."


	2. Talking It Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs and Dean talk over the phone, and Gibbs learns the reason for him calling when he gets some worrying news about Sam.

_"Dean and Sam Winchester.'"_

Said Winchester pressed one of his fists to his mouth to avoid saying anything, he understood the marine needed time to get past the denial stage and wrap his head around it. Then of course the yelling would start.

On the other side of the line Gibbs simply stared at the folder. "Damn." He said, his voice barely above a whisper. A little part of him sank, wasn't he just doing an excellent job of looking after them like he promised he would.

Gibbs picked up the forgotten bourbon left on the bench and took a sip. He found he had two warring sides. One side told him to hunt the Winchesters down and interrogate them until they broke, but his gut told a different story. It said there was more to this story then what was just on the page.

"You want to explain to me how you got all those changes?" He asked at last.

"Not particularly, no. But I can tell you that most of them aren't true."

"Oh yeah? You want to tell me how those eye witness accounts of you  _torturing_ someone are somehow false?"

"That wasn't me!" Dean's patience had reached its limit. "Look, Agent Gibbs. I know how you feel-"

Gibbs cut him off before he could finish. "The hell you do!"

Dean gave a huff of annoyance. "So maybe I don't," he admitted. "but I do know more stuff than you give me credit for. I've seen stuff Gunny, stuff that would make most run screaming for their lives." He growled out. "In fact, I  _have_ seen people do that." He added after a moment.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs always had a knack of being able to tell when someone was lying to him, and right now Gibbs could hear the sincerity in his voice.

Of course, the file on the Winchester's was larger than any other he'd seen. It also had a whole chapter dedicated to their psychotic and delusional beliefs in in the supernatural. Right after the page on their irrational co-dependence on each-other.

It wouldn't help anyone if he kept angering the eldest Winchester, he didn't want him to hang up on him. Instead he decided to humour him while he worked out a plan for a bigger scale. Like catching them before they could do any more real damage.

"Well lets just say I believe you, what exactly is it that you want?" Gibbs inquired, hoping to steer him away from the topic of magical beasts.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, this conversation was a hell of a lot more difficult than he had been expecting. He originally hoped to call him, avoid any nasty details and get straight to the point... well that went down well.

"I need to speak to one of your colleagues... I think his name is  _Ducky?_ " He eventually admitted, though still unsure if he had the name right.

"Why the hell do you need to talk to my medical examiner?" Gibbs demanded.

"Because it's important. Now... Can I speak with him?"

"No." Gibbs stated.

"But-"

Gibbs interrupted before Dean got a chance to speak properly. "Work hours are over, he's probably in bed. The best I can do is get you to speak to him tomorrow." He reasoned.

Dean growled in frustration. "This is important, dammit! I need to speak to him now."

"No." Gibbs repeated.

"Agent Gibbs..."

"Call tomorrow, you can talk to him then. Maybe. I don't usually negotiate with terrorists."

"I'm not a freaking terrorist!" Dean exclaimed. "I  _told_ you, most of those-"

"Are false, right." He cut in. "But not all of them..."

Dean stayed quiet, because he knew the man was right. The grave desecration, credit card forges and impersonation of everything from FBI to bikini inspector were all true.

"How could you do this to yourself? To Sam?" Gibbs queried, almost desperate to know what went wrong. How he might have been able to fix it.

Dean may have broken the law on several -okay a  _lot_ \- of occasions but he definitely would not keep quiet if Gibbs was going to insult him, blame him for everything. For Sam. He felt guilt bubble up inside of him when he thought about his younger brother but he forced himself to ignore it and focus on the old Gunnery Sergeant. "Oh, so now you're going to go all disapproving dad on me, huh? Well sorry to burst your bubble but one dad who's a marine and able to handle weapons far better than they should is enough." Dean snapped back.

Gibbs forced himself not to yell at Dean's sarcastic attitude. "Before I find you and throw your ass in jail I want to know why."

"Why what? Cause' if it's to do with the whole weapons thing-"

"Does this seem like a joke to you?" Gibbs barked at him before continuing in a softer voice . "I could help you if you just told me why..."

"So what? Now you're gonna go all den mother on me? Cause' I have to tell you, I'm outta brownie points."

By this point Gibbs nearly growled in frustration. "Damn it! What's so damn big that you can't even trust the only person in the law enforcement that you're father personally called to keep you safe!

"He called you.." Dean voice was unintentionally filled with a wondering curiosity that had the investigator back-peddling.

"Yes. He called me a couple years ago, told me he wouldn't be around much longer and to help you out if you were ever in trouble with the law."

"Oh." The elder Winchester cleared his throat and continued. "Well if you want to help me I need to speak with Ducky."

"I can get you to speak with him- _tomorrow-_  if you explain to me why you need Doctor Mallard for?

There was silence over the line, while Dean deliberated on whether or not to tell him, but Gibbs couldn't wait for him to decide. He wanted to know  _now_.

"Tell me." Gibbs commanded.

Clenching and unclenching his fists, Dean swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"It's Sam.. He's, er, he's ill." He failed to hide his anguish as he spoke his next words. 

"And he might not make it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun! So Sam is ill, you'll find out more in the next chapter, which will be up within a couple of days.


	3. Disagreeable Discussions with Duckman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more of Sam's sickness, and Dean and Ducky talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter. :)

"Urgnn..."

A groan from his right made Dean startle awake. He looked over at his little brother – the one he'd sworn to protect- unconsciously roll over on the bed, moaning in pain. Little beads of sweat trickled down his forward and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. An obvious reminder to Dean of what Sam was going through.

He had never felt so helpless.

If he had thought he could handle the situation he wouldn't have even considered bringing outsiders into this. His dad's old friends or not, he couldn't just condemn them to knowing of this life unless there was no other choice.

Bobby had tried to help but with the steam train known as the apocalypse barrelling towards them, full speed ahead, he was pretty swamped under. It seemed like every hunter under the sun was in need of assistance and as such he rarely had any spare time to look for cures of an unknown disease.

But as Dean patted down Sam's face with a damp cloth, he knew there was no other way. He needed outside help.

The illness itself had come out of nowhere, they'd had no time to prepare.

_* Flashback *  
_

_"You all right Sam?" Dean asked, placing a bloody machete onto the counter of their make-shift house._  
  
"Fine." Sam replied while shaking his head to clear the fog that had taken up residence in his brain.  
  
Dean was not convinced and Sam suddenly found himself looking into the critical eyes of his older brother.  
  
"Somethings been off all day with you Sam, what's wrong?"  
  
"Nothings wrong. I'm just tired. I didn't get all that much sleep last night." Sam assured him.  
  
"Lucifer?" Dean questioned, knowing how he sometimes invaded Sam's dreams to try and make him say yes.  
  
Sam's only reply was a tight smile and the aversion of his eyes, which of course told him everything he needed to know.  
  
"Right... Well go to bed then, I'll finish off here."

" _No, Dean-" Sam objected.  
  
"Go." He ordered and pushed him in the direction of the bedroom.  
  
With a sigh, Sam shuffled out of the room and into the bedroom of their temporary accommodation. He was fine. Really. He just needed some sleep and things would be good as new.  
  
It was much later when he awoke. Sunlight streamed through the flimsy curtains on the window and directly into his unsuspecting eyes. With a groan he rolled over and happened to glance at the bedside clock.  
  
9 a.m.  
  
Damn. He pulled himself up and groggily eyed the room around him automatically. Convincing himself there were no evil creatures of the night camped out in his room he headed towards the shower. For some reason he felt even worse than he did _before  _he went to sleep. After clambering out of the shower and into clean clothes he ambled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes._  
  
Dean sat at the kitchen table, a bag of take-away beside him. When he noticed Sam he looked up from where he had been scanning the newspaper for anything suspicious. Dried egg stuck to the corner of his mouth and sauce stained his once clean shirt.  
  
"Hey! Look who's finally awake. I brought you some food." He tossed the bag at him with one hand. "Don't worry I have already eaten."

_Wrinkling his nose Sam muttered "Yeah, I can tell."_

" _Wha..." Dean began but Sam never heard the end of it as a wave of dizziness overtook him._

" _...am! Sam!" The sound cut through to him and he found himself gripping the chair in front of him, his brother beside him, looking frantic._

" _Are you all right?" Was the first coherent sentence he heard._

" _Fine Dean." He replied._

" _Are you sure? A couple seconds ago you didn't look fine!" Dean fretted._

" _I'm just going to lie back down, them I'm sure I'll be as good as new." Sam assured him. However, when he stepped towards the bedroom he wavered for a moment before collapsing in a dead faint, briefly noticing Dean curse as he reached out to catch him._

_* End Flashback *_

Two days had past and Sam had only once woken up for a short period of time where Dean had force fed him until he fell unconscious again. He checked the time, 8:48 a.m. After admitting to Gibbs about Sam's illness, they had arranged for him to call back at 9 the next morning.

The eldest Winchester brother stood and made his way to the flimsy kitchen of their current 'house' to make coffee. He wasn't sure how Ducky could possibly help but at this point he was pretty much willing to try anything.  
After taking a deep drink from the freshly brewed coffee he pulled out his phone and dialled.

_~Slightly Earlier ~_

Special Agent Gibbs had not had much sleep last night with the recent revelations but he was still at work as early as ever, third coffee for the day in hand. After filling his team in with the basics (Dean had contacted him, Sam was ill, he wanted to talk to Ducky) he ordered McGee to run a trace when Dean Winchester did call, which he agreed to without hesitation.  
  
Sadly enough his team was used to following him with little information backing them, always believing their boss would do the right thing. Finally, said boss could no longer avoid the inevitable and headed down to autopsy to talk to their resident ME.  
  
"Hey Duck." He greeted his long time friend and colleague as he entered through the automatic doors.

"Jethro! To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit this early in the morning?" Ducky asked.

"What do you remember about John Winchester?" Gibbs questioned, launching straight into it.

"Jonathan! Excellent marine, brilliant with a rifle and- oh dear. He's not dead, is he?" Ducky's pleased expression at the mention of an old friend soon died as he took in the serious expression plastered across Gibbs' face.

"Been dead for a while actually..." Gibbs sighed. "According to his son Dean anyway."

"You spoke to him? What about young Samuel? Did you get a chance to speak to him to?"

"That's actually the reason I'm down here... Sam's sick."

Ducky eyed him curiously. "That's terrible Jethro, but what does that have to do with me?"

"I need you to talk to Dean long enough for McGee to trace his location." He said.

"Of course, but why would you... Surely you're not saying those two brothers you're after are... are Dean and Sam?" Doctor Mallard asked staring at Gibbs with wide eyes.

Gibbs was silent but it told him all he needed to know, "that's not good. That's not good at all."

"Hello?"

"Agent Gibbs? It's Dean."

The head-investigator made a gesture with the hand not holding the phone and McGee started the trace.

"Dean." He greeted. "I've got Doctor Mallard standing by to talk to you."

Dean sighed in relief, he honestly wasn't sure if Gibbs was going to come through or not. "That's... that's great." He said, trying to sound calm. "And err, thanks for doing this."

Gibbs didn't reply, he just handed the phone to Ducky after putting it on speaker.

"Ah, Dean!" Ducky exclaimed, sounding a bit forced on enthusiasm. "I haven't seen you since you were just a boy."

Great. Now there were two people that not only new his dad, but new  _him_ and possibly Sam as well.

"Well isn't that just great..." He sighed.

"You were quite the happy and -if I may say so- chubby child." Ducky chuckled.

Dean felt uncomfortable. Because the doctor spoke of both a time where he was... not as lean as he was now and also a time when his mother still lived. "Can we talk about Sam now?"

"Of course. Now tell me what Samuel's symptoms are." Ducky instructed, switching into Doctor mode.

"A couple of days ago Sam looked like he wasn't feeling well so I sent him off to bed. The next morning he came out, got dizzy for a moment. He was going to go back to sleep but he passed out before he could take to steps."

Ducky subconsciously nodded even though Dean couldn't see him as he absorbed the information. Out of the corner of his eye he saw McGee show Gibbs two fingers so he knew he had to keep Dean talking a little longer. "Has he woken up at all since then?" He asked.

"Once. Yesterday, and since then he's looked like he's in pain."

"Good, good." Ducky murmured absently.

"Good?" Dean raged. "How is that good? Just tell me what the hells wrong with my brother!"

The ME attempted to console Dean. "It's good because it means he most likely hasn't fallen into a coma." Ducky braced himself. "But unless I see him there's no way I could get an accurate diagnosis. Perhaps if I just had a blood sample-"

"No!" The elder brother interrupted. "No. There's absolutely no way we're letting the Feds get us again."

"But Samuel..."

"Will be fine." Dean finished firmly and with a slight hesitation, hung up. He regretted contacting Gibbs in the first place. If Castiel hadn't up and vanished about a week ago none of this would have happened. He slammed his fist against the wall beside him. That damn angel was never there when you needed him.

Back at NCIS Ducky sighed as Dean hung up. He boy was extremely protective of his brother and seemed determined that he would pull through. The ME just hoped he was right.

Special Agent Gibbs was only interested in one thing. Turning his head to the left he stared expectantly at the Probie of their group.

McGee's fingers slowed to a stop and he looked up to meet his bosses eyes. "I got him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. They've got a lock on Dean's location, and in the next chapter Dean gets to acquaint himself with the interrogation room in NCIS headquarters.


	4. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean gets arrested by NCIS, Gibbs is having second thoughts on whether he's doing the right thing and Bobby is brought into the fold.

Dean could feel the exhaustion creeping in, begging him to fall into the sweet abyss known as unconsciousness. But he couldn't, not yet at least. Not when Sam was just in the other room fighting for his life for all he knew.

And there lies the base of the problem: he didn't know. He didn't know what was wrong with Sam. He didn't know where Castiel was. He didn't know what he was supposed to do.

And he sure as hell wished he did.

If there was anything he did know, it was that involving feds was an altogether bad idea. But then again, he was kinda outta options.

Crossing the living room with a newly-rinsed cloth he haltered suddenly in front of a window when something –no- _someone_ caught his attention. Damn. There was definitely someone outside creeping towards the house.

Not even noticing he had dropped the damp cloth onto the ground he headed to the backdoor of the house and saw two more figures similarly making their way to him. Dean was about to rush away when he saw something else that made him pause. Letters. On the back of a jacket.

NCIS.

Oh, hell.

Rushing into the bedroom he eyes landed on Sam's prone form and nearly growled out loud. There was just no way they could get out of this one, not with Sam down for the count. Running a hand jerkily through his hair, his mind spun.

How could he have been so stupid?

Reaching into his jacket pocket after a moment's hesitation, he pulled out his cell phone and called a familiar number. Glancing anxiously out the window and pacing up and down Dean felt relief fill him for a moment when a gruff voice was suddenly in his ear.

_"Dean? Something change with Sam?"_

Snapping back into action mode he spoke quickly. "No Bobby. Look, I'm about to be caught by NCIS. Navy investigators or something... Sam too, though he's still in pretty bad shape so he'll probably be in a hospital."

Being a hunter meant Bobby could absorb information quickly in stressful situations, this time was no different. _"All right. What do you need me to do?"_

"I need you to get Sam out no matter what. Afterwards, try and find Cas, maybe he can mojo Sam better." Dean told him.

_"Fine. But what about you?"_ Bobby asked suspiciously. The Winchesters had developed a nasty habit of sacrificing themselves for one another. It was a vicious cycle.

"I'll muddle my way through." Dean said vaguely. "Now listen to me. Make sure to get Sam out."

The line went dead and for the next few moments all Bobby could do was stare at it.

"Balls."

Shoving the phone back into the confides of his leather jacket, the young hunter sighed in relief. Sam would be safe. The relief was short lived however when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a gun cocking from right behind him.

Knowing if he tried to fight his way out he'd just be shot and most likely killed (again), he simply raised his arms slowly above his head before turning in a half circle. When he found himself bullet free he cautiously looked up and into the eyes of none other than Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

"You're under arrest."

Those words surprisingly didn't come from the expressionless former marine but a second, younger agent standing to his right. He had short, dark hair and looked a bit older than Dean. He also held himself in a similar cocky manor that Dean himself did.

The young hunter did what he usually did in stressful situations that had his stomach turning; he became a smartass.

"Really? And here I thought you were just here for the party." He said, his mouth falling into an easy grin which turned into a grunt when he was spun back around and handcuffs were placed firmly on his wrists.

He tuned out the cocky looking agent that was reciting his rights as he was led to a car but before they could force him in, he craned his neck around to get a glimpse of Sam –who was being loaded into an ambulance. Well if nothing else good came from this, it was that Sammy was going to be able to get ample care at the hospital. Until, of course, he was broken out.

But then he was being forced into the car and with a sigh, resigned himself to the fact he was in custody. Again.

* * *

Meanwhile in Sioux Falls Bobby cursed his luck, the Winchester's and the damn apocalypse. It seemed all those boys did was jump from one frying pan into the next. It was like they never got a break. Standing up from where he'd been skimming over a book on demonic rituals he muttered some not so complimentary words. It was clear Dean wanted Sam to be rescued first and while he wouldn't put it past Dean to try and break free himself, he knew it was risky.

Picking up his phone he considered. He'd have to find which hospital Sam was taken to, and somehow sneak him –while comatose – through security and to a safe location. Then he would have to get into NCIS headquarters, a building filled with agents and security cameras and try and smuggle him out without it turning into a giant gun fight. Dean also would be under the highest security considering his records and place on the most wanted list.

There was no other way, he was going to need reinforcements.

* * *

Dean sat in the interrogation room, idly tapping his hands against the desk in a familiar tune he couldn't quite place.

He was about to open his mouth and complain for the fourth time about food delivery when, without warning, the door slammed open. Involuntarily Dean sprang from his seat to his feet, jerking the chains around his hands irritably. Warily, he watched as none other than Gibbs, former marine and friend of his deceased father walked in the door.

The door closed in a similar fashion and a moment later a thick file was slammed down on the desk. The hunter didn't have to look at it to know it was his.

Sharp blue eyes narrowed onto the eldest Winchester, "Sit down," He commanded.

Grudgingly Dean obeyed, after being reminded forcibly of his father. He slipped ungracefully into his chair like he hadn't a care in the world. In reality all of his nerves were tensed and as much as he tried to play it off as irritation, the cuffs on his wrist were painfully reminding him of memories he'd much rather bury.

As his eyes locked with Gibbs, something told him Gibbs had picked up on both his nerves and his aversion to handcuffs, much to his chagrin.

"A lot of people have been looking for you." Gibbs informed him, as casually as speaking of the weather.

Dean gave a cocky grin. "Guess I'm just irresistible."

Gibbs continued on as if Dean hadn't spoken. "Both you and your brother, you've caused a lot of trouble for the FBI."

The young man's grin slipped a little, but he still replied. "You've been reading up on us, I'm flattered." He quipped to hide the unease he felt over Henricksen's death. He could still remember his voice when he'd come back as a ghost. _'Made us watch as she was flayed alive. Piece by piece.'_

Once again, Dean found himself ignored. The senior agent flipped to a page in the folder that had before gone untouched. "Says here you and Sam are co-dependent on one another. So tell me, why did you call me?"

Dean was quiet for a while, contemplating not answering at all. Finally, he spoke but his force was a lot colder than he expected. "Because dad told us if we needed help, we could depend on you. Guess he was wrong about that though."

Though the hardened marine would never show it, that barb stung. He had promised to help and protect them, but he hadn't. Instead of hearing them out, he might as well have sentenced them to death. Gibbs felt like he had failed his long time friend John and his sons.

"So you expect me to let you go after you've killed and tortured people?"

Dean flinched at the word torture but quickly composed himself. "That wasn't me. Maybe if you'd heard me out you would know that." He snapped, unknowingly echoing Gibbs' earlier thoughts.

"Or maybe I would have found that you'd committed more crimes than even the FBI know about."

Seeing as he got no reply, Gibbs figured he'd try a different angle. "How about Sam."

Green eyes flickered up to meet him warily. "What about him?"

Gibbs shrugged, casually leaning against a wall of the interrogation room. "It seems to me that he only fell of the grid after he met up with you. Before than he was great. Full ride through college, on his way to become a lawyer."

The hunter gritted his teeth, he hated anyone who brought up times back when Sam wasn't involved in hunts. Back when he was happy. "I needed his help."

"With what?" He inquired, moving off the wall and placing himself in the seat opposite Dean. "Hiding a body?"

It was clear the marine was really getting on Dean's nerves. His fists were clenched and his eyes hardened. "I needed help looking for dad, he was missing." The eldest Winchester then turned his head away, indicating he wouldn't answer anything else.

"Why was John missing?"

His question was met with silence.

"Was it to do with his death?"

Still no answer.

Seeing as he wasn't getting anywhere with this interrogation, the silver haired agent stood and made his way out the door without another word. As much as he would have liked to go home to his basement and a glass of bourbon, he moved towards the viewing room instead.

Slipping in quietly, he watched through the glass as Dean visibly sagged after he left. Dean went to run a hand through his hair but he chains forbid it, cursing loudly he slumped back in his chair.

"What do you think?" Gibbs asked and turned to face Ducky, who was studying Dean's movements.

"I think that boy has lived through worst things than all of us combined." The doctor admitted quietly.

Silently reliving his own past traumas he asked, "What gives you that idea?"

"For starters, he has a particular aversion to the handcuffs he wears and flinched when you mentioned torture."

"You believe he's been tortured before." Gibbs supplied.

"Yes, but not just physically, mentally as well. His eyes and body language indicate he's still fighting something, even now. It's like he doesn't care he's in custody because it's the least of his problems. Bringing up Samuel and Johnathon obviously angered him, I think he feels responsible for them. Sam especially."

Gibbs nodded, "You think he cares for Sam because of some out of control sibling protectiveness?"

"It's more like he needs Sam there to hold him up, keep him sane, and in return he'll do the same. There is a much bigger picture than what we see and I feel Samuel's illness and the betrayal he felt when you turned him in are really just the tip of the iceberg I'm afraid."

The marine absorbed all of the information. "You really think he feels betrayed I turned him in, Duck? I don't even know him?"

Ducky turned his kind eyes on him. "Ah, Jethro. Don't feel guilty; you did the required thing to do."

"But what if it wasn't the right thing to do? What if he really is innocent?" He pressed.

"This boy is far from innocent Jethro. I'll tell you that now. However, as far as I can tell when you spoke of the torture in St. Louis and he told you he didn't do it, he was telling the truth."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait. Next chapter won't take as long, and we'll get our first glimpse of what has happened to Cas.


	5. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Sam POV, and we see what's been keeping Cas, also NCIS digs into the Winchesters past and finds that things don't really add up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait!

Darkness. It was everywhere.

Pressing against him, tearing at him, suffocating him. It was freezing him from the inside out, yet it still burning beneath his skin, with flames licking at his tender flesh. Here, there was no time, no space. Just darkness.

All the while an eerie laugh echoed in his ears as he screamed. Mocking and taunting him into insanity.

He tried to run but invisible restraints held him in place. He lashed out but his flailing limbs only connected with air.

"You can stop it all, you know. Just say _yes._ "

Without warning, the dark abyss that surrounded him lightened considerably. He could see himself standing on a cliff, overlooking a city. A city that was nothing but ruins.

The white suit he wore starkly contrasted with despair filled lands before him. It looked as welcoming as deserted world, which he realized, was exactly what it was. A single body remained, a young man. He wore ragged clothing and was bleeding heavily. The man crawled and heaved himself towards where his look-alike stood, seemingly not noticing the scarred and bloody hands grasping for purchase on his suit or his pleading voice.

Suddenly he wasn't just watching his look-alike, but in the body as well. However, his limbs were not under his control, the cold eyes of his counter-part –his eyes- turned to stare down at the pitiful sight of the man. He gingerly lifted one of his legs and in the next moment, crushed the man's skull under his boot.

His screams fell on death ears and bile rose in his throat. It took a moment to realise he was somewhere new, and thankfully back in control of his own body. In the back of his mind a cruel and cold sounding voice whispered to him.

"Having fun yet? That last little scene was a tiny taste of your future, but this, this is happening right now."

Warily he scrutinized his latest location. It was a warehouse of some sort, obviously abandoned and for some time. Dust and cobwebs covered most surfaces. An old sign was nailed to the wall several feet away.

_Bob's Fruit Factory_

_Producing the finest fruit from 1998_

But none of this occupied his thoughts for more than a couple of seconds. Because there, in the very centre of the room, was Castiel.

He stood in a ring of holy-fire and judging by the way he held himself, had sustained serious injuries. Castiel's eyes remained locked on the darkest corner of the warehouse the entire time.

"Now, Now, Castiel. I'm beginning to become impatient. Just tell me where the Winchester's are and I'll let you go... maybe. If you join me." Said the same voice from his head. Out of the shadows stepped none other than Lucifer.

"I will not betray Sam and Dean." Cas ground out and Lucifer tutted at him.

"Always so loyal, little brother. First to father, then to Michael and now to those irritating pests you call human beings."

"They are not all bad! They try to do good. They-"

"Quiet!" The Morningstar snapped at him. "You be brave and loyal Castiel. But one way or another, you _will_ tell me where they are."

Sam Winchester sat up with a gasp in his hospital bed. His heart monitor was beating erratically and doctors and guards both swarmed around him.

Almost immediately Sam saw black spots appear in his vision and he knew whatever had caused him to wake up wouldn't last much longer. Ripping off his breathing mask he grabbed the wide eyed nurse beside him and spoke hoarsely and quickly.

" Tell Dean, help! Cas... trapped." Sam's vision and he swayed dangerously. He could feel himself fading back to sleep. "Bob's.... Fruit Fac..tory...."

The doctors could only watch and take quick notes of his words as Sam's eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back on the bed, unconscious.

_~4 Hours Earlier~_

With Ducky's words still running circles around his brain, he headed towards Abby's lab.

"What you got, Abbs?" He asked as he entered. The Caff-Pow! he'd stopped to get on the way in one hand.

The eccentric Goth spun on the heel of her boots. "Gibbs!" Abby greeted cheerfully, eagerly reaching for the Caf-Pow! he held out of reach.

"Case first Abs."

Abby pouted but turned none-the-less to update him. "Okay. So I've been going over the Winchester case file – by the way, you never told me how cute they are for psychopathic serial killers, you know..."

Gibbs shook her drink tauntingly, "Focus."

Visibly getting herself back on track, she continued. "Right, well going over their file I've found some anomalies that just don't add up."

Gibbs' curiosity perked up. "What do you mean?"

"Well for starters their MO varies more than Tony's preference in women. I mean everything from murder charges to grave desecration to –"

"You got anything I didn't already know?" The marine butted in sharply, all too aware of the brothers' charges.

Abby huffed at him. "I'm getting there!" Focusing on her computer the forensic scientist brought up a map with lines criss-crossing over it. "Before us, the agent tracking the Winchesters was FBI Agent Hendrickson. He was obsessed with them, blamed every crime he could on the brothers with no substantial evidence to back him up other than the fact they were in the area." She explained.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "Where's Agent Hendrickson now? Doesn't seem like the type to give up."

"He wasn't. Died last year in an explosion with a couple of other people, apparently two of those were Sam and Dean." She paused. "But I went over the case file and it appears while the Winchester's were in the place of dozens of murders, they started _before_ they arrived and by the time they left, the killings had stopped."

The lead agent took in this information and considered it momentarily. "So you're telling me the brothers are really vigilantes?"

It seemed a little too sketchy and Abby seemed to agree. "Possibly, but even that theory has holes. Countless people have admitted that Sam and Dean saved them; but none of them elaborate on the how or what they were being saved from.

Gibbs nearly groaned out loud. He knew where she was going with this; she was a firm believer in the supernatural after all. "Abby..." He protested.

"No, Gibbs!" The Abby said firmly. "Not all of them were civilians either." Her fingers ran across the keyboard and pictures of two separate women appeared on screen. "Sheriff Jody Mills of Sioux Falls admits to being saved by them. According to what I've managed to dig up, she's had numerous meetings with them. The second is detective Diane Ballard from Baltimore PD, she claims they saved her as well!"

Gibbs sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose; once again questioning his decision on bringing in Sam and Dean. "I'll have Tony and Ziva look into it, Tony worked with Baltimore once so maybe he knows her."

Abby happily grabbed her drink when it was offered to her, smiling when he gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

"Good work Abs. Keep digging and see if you can find anything else." The _'and a more reasonable theory'_ was left unsaid but she still heard it.

Abby opened her mouth to protest but he stopped her by raising his hand. "Also stop by the evidence garage, everything we collected should be coming in now."

Rather sullenly, she gave a mock-salute. "Aye-aye captain!"

* * *

Heading back upstairs, Gibbs didn't bother checking in with Ducky, knowing there was nothing more for him to work with. Instead, he entered straight into the bull-pen, only to stop clean in his tracks.

The ex-marine took in the scene in front of him with a raised eyebrow; McGee had his arms behind his back –obviously holding something out of reach from his SFA; speaking of which, Tony was pressed agiants the younger agent with his arms around him in an attempt to reach the object. Ziva merely stood nearby, chuckling and discreetly recording the entire thing for later blackmail purposes.

Fixing his stare on the two grappling agents, Gibbs cleared his throat once while fighting to keep his lips from twitching in amusement.

The team reacted instantly, Ziva spirited her phone away as swiftly as she did her knives, Tony and McGee sprung backwards from each-other, the latter victoriously still holding what now appeared to be a stapler in one hand. All three opened their mouths and sprouted a jumble of words that was impossible to comprehend although the lead agent was fairly sure the phrase "It wasn't what it looked like" was frequently used.

Gibbs sighed and wished he had stopped for coffee. "Stop!" He barked at them and they immediately fell silent. He then focused his attention on Tony.

Taking that as his cue, Tony immediately launched into an accusation. "McGee stole my stapler, Boss!"

"What? I did not!"

"Don't try to deny it McTheif, I _saw_ your grubby little fingers reach over and take it."

Feeling more like a kindergarten teacher than an agent, Gibbs switched his attention to Tim, wordlessly asking him to explain.

"It's my stapler!" McGee protested with a glare in Tony's direction. "You're the one who stole it off my desk two weeks ago."

"Finders Keepers McLoser."

"That's not how it works!"

"Sure it is. I found it on your desk and decided to keep it."

The youngest agent gaped at him. "You can't-"

Gibbs' patience reached his limit. Reaching out he slapped both men on the back of their head and grabbed the stapler and tucked it into one of the drawers of his desk. "Now it's mine."

Tony and Tim wore identical crestfallen expressions which had his lips twitching again but he kept up his stern demeanour and faced his team. "What'cha got?"

McGee stepped forward after giving Tony was last reproachful look. Grabbing the remote of his desk, he brought up a picture of the Winchester brothers. "Sam and Dean Winchester, born in Lawrence, Kansas to John and Mary Winchester. Mary was killed in the Sam's nursery when he was exactly 6 months and Dean was for by a house fire. John initially wrote a report saying he saw someone in the house, but later withdrew his statement. As far as I could tell he quit his job as a mechanic and vanished on an extended road trip with his sons after speaking to a woman named Missouri." He finished.

Tony snatched the remote out of his hands and flicked to another picture. "Missouri Mosely," he began, "still living in Lawrence, Kansas. Local psychic. I made some calls and apparently Sam and Dean returned to their old house not too long ago and saved a woman and two kids who are living there. When I questioned her on what she was saved from, she refused to explain and told me that the brother's are 'innocent and I shouldn't be digging into things I don't want the answer too.'"

Ziva picked up where Tony left off. "There have been several other notable cases where people have reported the Winchesters saving them. But none will expand on the what or the how. The statements come from numerous states and people of a variety of ages, ethnicity and political standing."

Gibbs nodded, accepting the new information. "Tony, Ziva, I want you to go to Baltimore and speak with Diane Ballard. She claims they have helped her."

Tony looked up at his boss, surprised. "Diane? I haven't heard from her in ages. She never mentioned running into them to me..."

"Well go find out why." Gibbs said, shooing them out. "McGee I want you to go help Abby try and track where they have been, starting with right after the fire."

The younger agent looked at his boss in surprise. "Then where are you going boss?"

"To speak to Missouri Mosley."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: Gibbs talks to Missouri and Tony and Ziva talk to Diane.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, here's the next chapter. Wow, I wrote this ages ago and my writing style has changed so much it's killing me.

“Hey Abby, Gibbs sent me down here to…” As McGee entered the lab he trailed off, losing his train of thought due to the sight before him.

Weapons of all varieties littered the lab tables. From hand guns to rifle and from pocket-knives to machetes.

“Timmy!” Greeted the enthusiastic goth from where she was handling a large white bag of…. something.

“What is all this?” He gasped.

Abby grinned at him. “This, is the Winchester’s weaponry. It arrived not too long ago.”

“Weaponary?” And is that… “ His eyes narrowed in on the bag in her hands, “salt?”

Abby nodded. “Yup. Kosher salt to be exact, no added iodides.”

“But how is that a weapon?”

“Because Tim,” she explained, sounding like the answer should have been obvious, “it keeps away demons.”

“Demons.” McGee said faintly. “With _salt._ ” He warily snapped on a pair of gloves and picked up another bag, much smaller and made of soft material and peaked inside, fine brown dust stared back at him. “And this?”

“Gopher Dust. It keeps hellhounds at bay.” Abby said as casually as one speaks about the weather. “Here is everything you could need to take out almost any supernatural creature.” She walked around pointing out several objects. “Silver bullets, Holy Water, wooden stakes. There’s even a couple of flame-throwers.”

“The Winchesters really are insane.”

“No, they’re equipped.” Abby stated firmly. “Now are you just going to stand there or are you going to actually help me bag all this?”

Ziva’s car screeched around another corner while Tony gripped the dashboard, knuckles white and looking nauseous.

“The motive and MO changes at each stop they make around the country, they believe in the occult and have apparently died several times over. It doesn’t _make sense._ ”

“Believe me, I know. This has got to be the weirdest case we’ve had. Half the time the witnesses are saying the Winchesters saved them. Maybe they’re like Dexter, going around killing the killers.” Tony said.

“Like who?”  Ziva blinked over at him.

“Eyes on the road!” Tony snapped as they narrowly missed a minivan. “The TV show with Micheal C. Hall? No?”

When there was no recognition, he sighed. “Never mind.  Do you think they could really be innocent? That this is all one big misunderstanding?” Tony was doubtful.

“I don’t think the witnesses were lying when they said the Winchesters saved them. But I don’t think they told the full story either.”

Tony sighed. “Hopefully we’ll get the full story with Diane.”

“How _do_ you know her?” Ziva asked.

“Diane? I trained her back when I was in Baltimore. Back when she was still in the narcotics division but was looking at switching.” Tony said.

Ziva laughed. “You trained her?”

“Hey! I’ll have you know I was an excellent trainer.” He said, sounding miffed. “We were worked together on a few cases. She was pretty good.”

“Do you still keep in contact?” She asked.

Tony shrugged. “We’ve kept in touch over the years but we haven’t spoken recently. I thought she would have told me if something big like meeting the Winchesters had happened, but I guess not.”

Ziva drove into Baltimore while Tony helpfully called out direction to the Baltimore Police Station.  Pulling in smoothly, she glanced over at her partner. “You ready?”

Tony grinned. “Always.”

They met Diane inside, she was talking to a few of the newer agents, that scattered as Tony and Ziva approached.

“Tony! It’s good to see you.” She greeted him, wrapping him in a brief hug but looking slightly confused.

Tony hugged her back. “It’s good to see you to Diane, it’s been too long.”

Diane looked between Tony and Ziva. “It certainly has. But… what are you doing here?”

“This is my partner, Special Agent Ziva David.” They shook hands as Tony continued. “We need to speak to you about the Winchesters.”

Her eyes widened. ”The Winchesters? Tony... What’s going on?”

“You might want to sit down.”

Gibbs stepped out of the car at a simple looking house, approaching the steps as a woman and a young man exit the house.

“So you’re sure?” The man questioned.

“Honey, of course I’m sure. She loved you more than anything else. Now off you go, I’ve got a very important appointment with Leroy over there.”

Nodding, the man left, and the woman known as Missouri Mosely sighed and leaned against the door frame. “Poor soul.  His wife was on her way to end it with him when she crashed.”

“So you lied to him?”

Missuouri scoffed, looking over at Gibbs. “Well, of course I lied to him! People don’t come to me for the truth Leroy, they come to be reassured. ‘No, he didn’t cheat on you.’ ‘Yes, of course the child is yours, dear.’ I tell them what they want to hear.”

Gibbs gave her a measured look. “Are you going to lie to me?”

“Depended on what you want to hear _Leroy Jethro Gibbs._ ” She turned and entered the house. “Now hurry up and come inside, these old bones aren’t what they used to be.’’

They had settled into the living room, a hot cup of tea in front of each of them before Gibbs speaks. “People call you a psychic.”

“That’s on word for what I can do.” Missouri allowed. “I can’t tell your future. I can’t change your past. But I can tell you, you have better places to be the pestering an old woman.”

“You’ve lived here a long time?”

“Oh yes, years and years. I was here back when the boys were little kids. Dean and Sam, that is.” Missouri said.

“So you knew John Winchester.” Gibbs asked.

“Oh, I knew him all right. Although… I would like to have seen what he was before poor Mary’s death.”

Gibbs frowned at her. “Who says that he was any different?”

She just gave him a pitying look. “Leroy, you of all people should know how the death of such a close loved one can affect a person.”

He pulled back a little, but his expression didn’t change. “Have you had any contact with the Winchester family since then?”

“They came to me a couple years back, when they were looking for their father. It was not long after the death of Sam’s lovely girlfriend, Jessica.” She sighed. “It’s a shame they didn’t know he was hiding out in my back room the whole time.”

“You didn’t tell them he was here.” He said, a slight accusation in his tone.

“I didn’t say I agreed with his action!” She snapped at him. “But John wanted to keep those boys safe and thought hiding from them was the best way to do that.”

Gibbs picked up on what was being unsaid. “There was someone after him?”

“More like he was after someone. The same someone that burned down their house all those years ago.”

“In his original incident report he said he saw someone in his house that night. He figured out who it was.”

Missouri nodded gravely. “It took him over twenty years, it did. But he tracked it down. The nasty son of a bitch. But I’m afraid it got him before he could get it.”

Inwardly, Gibbs cursed. He knew what it was like to have a one track mind for revenge, and to die before you got it…

“Don’t worry Leroy, it got what was coming for it in the end.” She said knowingly as she stood up to collect their cups. “You know, you should be more careful about leaving your team without it’s leader. Anything could happen.”

Gibbs stood up as well. “Are you threatening me?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Boy, do I look like the type to start doling out threats?”

Before he could reply, his phone rang. Excusing himself, he left the room to answer it, coming back several minutes later. It had been the hospital, informing him that Sam had briefly woken up.

“See,” Missuouri said when he walked back in. “I told you you had better things to do than bothering me.”

“I thought you couldn’t tell the future?”

“I can’t. Now you’re a busy man so answer that and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” She said, and Gibbs could detect she almost sounded smug.

“Answer what?”

His phone rang again.

Nursing a cup of coffee in her hands, Diane sighed. “I haven’t seen those boys in years, not since Peat died.”

“Was Pete your partner?” Ziva asked.

“Yeah, before we transferred to homicide, we used to work narcotics together.”

“Did they kill him?” Tony asked bluntly.

Diane chuckled humourlessly. “No. But I did.”

Ziva blinked in shock and exchanged a glance with Tony, they hadn’t exactly been expecting that. “ _You_ killed him? Was it because of the Winchesters? Perhaps they threatened you or…” Ziva trailed off, unsure on how to continue.

“It was nothing like that. About 9 months before we arrested the Winchesters, Pete stole some heroin from lock-up. Fenced it with a dealer, Claire Becker. Then, she wanted to come clean about everything so he killed her.”

Tony sucked in a breath. “He killed her, just like that?”

Diane’s hands tightened on the cup. “Just like that. Nine months later, Tony Giles, a lawyer and Pete’s close friend who was also a part of the deal wanted to come clean. So Pete killed him too.” Her voice trembled and she took a moment to compose herself. “Not long after Giles’ wife Karen turned up dead as well, and that’s where we found Dean, crouched over her body.”

“And you’re sure it wasn’t Dean?”

“Positive.” She said. “Pete tried to blame the whole thing on the Winchesters so he could get away free, and by the time I realised what had happened and managed to catch up with him, he had Dean on his knees with a gun pointed at his head.” She shook her head, lost in the memories of that day. “He was telling Dean how he was going to say Dean tried to escape. I confronted him but he wouldn’t put the gun down. The only way to stop him was to put a bullet in his chest.”

“I am sorry.” Ziva said quietly.

Diane looked bemused. “For what?”

“I know what it is like to be betrayed by someone you love.”

Tony’s phone rang, breaking the tense atmosphere that had gathered. Standing up Tony pressed his phone to his eye with a cheerful. “Hey Bossman!”

A minute later the phone snapped shut again, and the two woman moved to stand as well. Placing their cups on the coffee table and waiting to hear the news.

“That was Gibbs, Sam woke up briefly in the hospital, mentioned someone called Castiel. You don’t happen to know who that is do you?” He said, directing the question to Diane.

“I.. No, sorry. But wait, Sam’s in hospital? What happened?”

“Not sure yet. And I guess you knowing who Castiel is would have been too much to ask. What kind of name is _Castiel_ anyway?” When neither Ziva nor Diane made any move to comment he continued. “Anyway Miss David and I have to go interrogate the older Winchester again, see if he’ll give us anything, and then go talk to Abby.”

Ziva nodded. “We better leg off then.”

“ _Head_ off” Tony corrected almost absent-mindedly. “It was good to see you again Diane, even if it wasn’t the most conventional way.”

“You too, Tony.”

The doors to the morgue slid open with a hiss as Gibbs entered. He found Ducky at his desk pouring over an old journal that looked like it had seen better days. “Duck. You said you had something you wanted to show me?”

“Ah, Jethro. I was wondering how long it’d take you to get down here. Now, Abby found this book” Ducky tapped the journal, “in the Winchester’s things.  It’s a journal. _John’s_ journal.”

Gibbs glanced down at it. “You thought it’d give us more knowledge on the families psych?”

“Exactly. It starts November 26th, 1983. Several days after Mary’s death.” Ducky looked up Gibbs expectantly.

“Come on Duck, just tell me what’s so important.” Gibbs said.

“It’s Sam and Dean’s childhood Jethro. I’ve just finished reading it myself and it’s nothing like I’ve ever seen. The John that raised these kids isn’t the John that we knew. For example, I know why Sam and Dean are so adamant in believing in the supernatural.”

Gibbs sighed, regretting not keeping a closer eye on his old friend. “John.”

“It says here that John was taught to be a hunter after ‘learning the truth’. He learnt about endless different creature, he learnt exorcisms, he learnt symbols that not even I understand.” Ducky hesitated. “It also speak of murders Jethro, that he committed.”

Gibbs ran his hands through his hair. “Damn it.” Taking a breath, he asked. “What about Sam and Dean?”

“Well from what I can see there are early signs of mental trauma. “From kidnappings, to being trained as hunters, the endless moving around and never settling in one place, Dean saw John kill what he calls a ‘shapeshifter’ when he was only five. Five years old.

“John became obsessed with finding Mary’s killer. He seemed to forget that he was a father, not a drill sergeant. He constantly left them on their own and it was always up to Dean to protect Sam. Dean was literally taught that Sam comes before everything. Even himself.”

“That explains the co-dependency on each other, the obsession with the supernatural too.” Gibbs sighed again. “Was there ever any mention of someone called Castiel?”

Ducky shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Is he important?”

Gibbs walked out, calling out over his shoulder.  “Don’t know yet, but I plan to find out.”

“I’m telling you this is a bad idea.”

“No it’s not. I just want to ask him a couple of things. It’s strictly professional. Plus, I’ve got you to protect me.”

McGee scoffed. “Yeah, sure. If Gibbs finds out I’m letting you do this…”

“He won’t find out. Just don’t tell him.” Abby said.

“Easy for you to say, it’s Gibbs! He _knows._ ” McGee muttered.

Together they reached the interrogation room that Dean was being held in. Abby immediately shooed away the two guards standing either side of the door, despite their disgruntled protests. Without hesitation, she twisted the knob and stepped inside, a reluctant McGee following a second later.

Dean’s previously bored gaze changed dramatically when the forensic scientist walked in. Leaning back slightly he let a lazy grin on his face as he blatantly took in the woman in front of him. Platform form boots, short red and black ruffle skirt, a black tee emblazoned with a skull made of sequins, a spiked dog collar, numerous tattoos and black pigtails.

“Now this is more like it.” He said aloud as he stared appreciatively.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So did you like it? Tell me what you thought in the comments! Next chapter, a proper meeting between Dean and Abby.

**Author's Note:**

> Stalk me: http://setfiretotheshadows.tumblr.com


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